


Heaven's Trap

by tickingclockheart



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e11 Heaven Sent, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s09e11 Heaven Sent, Post-Resolutions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 18:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tickingclockheart/pseuds/tickingclockheart
Summary: She doesn’t know how they got here, but she knows this place.“Doc?” She hears Graham ask, but it’s distant now. Her skin is on fire, she’s burning up, her flesh is charred and she can feel it’s hands on her, it’s breath in her face, and the buzz of flies-“Right.” She turns around, a painfully fake smile plastered on her face. “Let’s get a shift on. I know this place too well.”She does. She knows how the walls move, how the rules work here. And she sees the portrait of Clara-she can remember now, the regeneration knocked a few things back into place-hanging on the wall, cracked and old.4.5 billion years old.-The TARDIS team end up in a place the Doctor has wanted to forget. Is it a replica? Or is there something more at work here? The Doctor must fight her growing terror over the situation, as the past is thrown into her face.
Comments: 55
Kudos: 189





	1. Birdcage

**Author's Note:**

> Occasionally I switch pronouns from she to he for the Doctor during flashbacks. These are in italics, but so are the Doctor's thoughts. Sorry for any confusion.

She doesn’t know how they got here, but she knows this place.

“Doc?” She hears Graham ask, but it’s distant now. Her skin is on fire, she’s burning up, her flesh is charred and she can feel _it’s_ hands on her, _it’s_ breath in her face, and the buzz of flies-

“Right.” She turns around, a painfully fake smile plastered on her face. “Let’s get a shift on. I know this place _too_ well.”

She does. She knows how the walls move, how the rules work here. And she sees the portrait of Clara-she can remember now, the regeneration knocked a few things back into place-hanging on the wall, cracked and old.

_4.5 billion years old._

_It’s not real,_ she tells herself. _It’s not real and you know it._ Because there is no reason for the Time Lords to bring her back to this place.

She hopes. Because she doesn’t know if she can do it again.

“Where are we?” Yaz asks, and the Doctor’s throat clenches.

“Someone’s trying to get my attention, so they somehow built a replica of a place I’ve been before. I don’t know why, or how, so let’s figure it out, yeah?”

It’s overly simplified, she knows. They’re going to want more information, but the screen is on and _it’s_ coming closer.

“There’s something coming for us. Follow me, we need to get to the other side of the castle.”

The four pick up their pace, following the Doctor blindly, filled with so much trust.

“Doctor? What’s going on? What’s coming for us?”

_Yaz, always with the questions._

“I’ll explain when we’re safe. The rules here aren’t the same as they are out there.”

She glances to the nearest screen as they round the corner, and sees the portrait of Clara in _its_ view. She narrows her eyes.

_That was far too close._

It takes a while to get to the other side of the castle, but eventually they reach the dining room. And suddenly she’s-

_Sitting there alone, the spoon drops while his heart does, and he stands up, narrowly escaping its clutches-_

“Sit down. Eat. We don’t have much time.” She’s dropped the mask of whimsical happiness, and the companions seemed to have noticed this. It would be hard not to.

“Doc, what’s going on?” Graham questions her, looking around the castle.

“This place can’t be real. If the people who trapped me here originally were going to do it again, they wouldn’t pick somewhere that I know how to escape. This is meant to scare me.” The Doctor thinks out loud, pacing back and forth.

“What are we running from?” This time it’s Yaz speaking.

The Doctor slows down; stops pacing.

“There are rules here,” she begins, “ _It_ moves slowly, but _it_ never stops. Wherever we go, whatever path we take, _it_ will follow. Never faster, never slower, always coming. We’ll run. _It_ will walk. We will rest. _It_ will not.

“And I don’t mean to intimidate you, really, you’re my fam, I wouldn’t do that, but you need to know the stakes. I can get us out of here, but I need your trust.”

“You have it.” Ryan, who’s been oddly quiet up to this point, speaks up.

“The screens show where _it_ is. _It’ll_ come here slowly”-

_-Always so slowly, never stopping. Why is he here? Why won’t it stop?_

_Wrong question-_

“The only way to keep ahead of it is to keep moving. It takes almost exactly eighty-two minutes for _it_ to go from one end of the castle to the next. That’s when you sleep, eat and plan. And if _it_ manages to catch you, you have to make a confession-

_-I’m scared of dying. I just realized that I’m actually scared of dying-_

“-Something you’ve never told anyone before. That’s the only way to win here.

“On the other hand, this isn’t the real place, it can’t be the real place, so that means it might not want information. I don’t know if it’ll freeze up once you confess, so best to just avoid it entirely, yeah?”

The companions let her words hang over them, contemplating and listening and learning. That’s something she’s always loved about humans, they learn fast and can run pretty fast too.

-x-

They haven’t gone to sleep, it’s not time for them to, the Doctor knows that. But she also knows that as time goes on, their bodies will be begging for rest. The intervals-

-Click

Click

Click

Click

She’s counting down, she’s always counting down, but it’s been a long time since she did it outside her head-

-won’t be a long enough time for them to get proper sleep. And once the stop sleeping, they won’t be quick and death will be right around the corner.

This place wasn’t designed for humans; it was designed for her.

These companions have been in bad places, there’s no denying that, but compared to what Amy, Rose, Donna, Clara, and all the others faced…

They’re new, they haven’t seen those things yet.

And now they were in one of the most horrifying places she’s ever gone.

Not only that, but who knows if the rules are the same. What if it isn’t eighty-two minutes after all?

What if there’s no way to stop it, what if it’s faster, what if-

She has to stop. There’s no time to think about that. There are more present issues right now, like escape.

Last time she’d escaped it had taken 4.5 billion years.

Assuming there was Azbantium at all, she figures a few extra hands to cut down the time would help.

But 4.5 billion years…even cut down…she couldn’t ask that from them.

So she thinks of a plan.

-x-

-2 minutes

Click

Click

Click

Click-

She checks the screen, and she knows exactly where _it_ is. She knows which hallway to take to avoid it.

“Okay team, fam, gang? Ah, work in progress. _It_ ’ll be here in a few minutes, so it’s best to get a head start now, yeah? Follow me.”

The team gets up wordlessly, all too trusting, and follow her down the corridor. They stare down through the glass to their right, overlooking the dining room. Below them, _it_ wanders.

I’s right there. So close, through the glass. She’s seen this before, every time she came to the dining room on each loop.

And there’s buzzing, the flies, god, she hates them so much.

And _its_ cloak, and _its_ hands.

No, _its_ claws-

_-its claws on his face, burning her flesh_

_Charring him, holding him tight, and the flies-_

_Keep it together_ , she hisses to herself.

She knows where she needs to go, though she desperately doesn’t want to. Room 12. That’s her destination, in the end. Isn’t it always?

And who knows, maybe she won’t need to go there after all. Time will tell.

“Where are we going?” Yaz asks her.

“To the bottom floor of the next tower, there’s something I need to see.”

“Which is?” Ryan speaks up.

“How many skulls there are.”

-x-

It takes them a while to make it to the room they’re looking for, but she remembers it vividly. She dried off here after she fell-

_He smashes the chair through the window_

_Glass shattering_

_The smell of salt_

_The density of the air_

_And he’s falling_

_Clara_

_Clara_

_He hits the water and-_

No time to reminisce. It took them long enough to get here, and she’s counting the minutes down. 82...81...80…

Click.

Click.

Click.

“Alright then! You lot, stay put, I’ll be back in two minutes.” She strips her coat off, putting it in front of the fire.

“Oi! Where are you going?” Graham exclaims as she kicks off her boots and bends down to take off her socks.

“For a swim!” She says cheerfully, trying to distract them from the severity of the situation.

“A swim? Now?”

“Nothing like a good swim.”

And with that, she opens the door to see the water. She _knew_ it would be there, but her heart drops.

She wanted to be wrong. Just once, about this place. Because if she’s wrong, it means she isn’t in the confession dial. Because she can’t be, right?

But every time she knows exactly where to go, what to do, _how to win_. She hasn’t been wrong once so far.

God, just please, once, let her be wrong.

-x-

She dives down, feels the familiar splash-

_Can’t I just sleep?_

_Question one. What is this place?_

_Do I have to know everything?_

_How are you going to-_

_Clara, I can’t always-_

_Win?-_

-She opens her eyes, and there are skulls everywhere.

Just like before.

Maybe she is back there, maybe she is-

No, no time to think like that.

She swims down, the water gets cooler as she gets lower, and the swim is painstakingly familiar.

She grabs a skull, and swims up, higher and higher and higher, till she reaches the surface.

-x-

After getting out of the water, she renters the room and strips off her blue shirt, leaving her just in her white undershirt and pants, setting the skull down for just a moment.

“Doctor!” Yaz shouts. “Why would you do that?”

“I needed to see something.” She sets herself down in front of the fire, hand on the skull.

“What did you need to see?”

“How many skulls there were in the water.” She answers simply, still shivering.

“Why?” Ryan asks.

“Because now I know a few things. See this?” She points to the skull, then her nose. “Not the same nose. But I do remember that nose, the nose on the skull. I’ve seen this skull before, no many, many times before.”

“Noses? Doc, what are you on about. What do you mean by knowing this skull?”

“What I’m saying is that this isn’t my skull.” The Doctor concludes.

“Well of course it’s not, you aren’t dead.” Graham says with a raised eyebrow.

“There’s ways of getting someone’s skull without ending them. Killing someone and ending them are two different things.” The Doctor says cryptically.

“You know who this skull belongs to?” Yaz cuts in.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely, there’s no mistaking it.”

“Who?”

The Doctor goes quiet for a moment, and then shakes her head. “Not important.”

“You said you’ve been here before…?” Ryan prompted.

“A long time ago, some people imprisoned me here to get me to confess. I escaped, course, but I was here…a long time. I originally thought this was a replica, but if it is a replica…then it’s perfect. Everything, perfect. But they don’t want answers! I don’t think so, anyway. They got all the answers they needed.”

“So why are we here?” Yaz asks, looking around the room.

“I don’t know…but I do know where to go next.”

“And that is?”

“The top of the tower during night. I need to see the stars.”


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team fights off sleep while making their way to the garden, where an eerie message makes the Doctor realize her feelings on this place that she doesn't like being brought to light.

Her companions are exhausted, she can tell. They try to hide it; for her sake maybe, she doesn’t quite know why, but it’s obvious to her.

They’ve been going from place to place all day, counting and running and hiding. They hadn’t had any direct encounters with it, though at this rate that could change very soon.

It’s in the way Yaz’s eyes are droopy, and Ryan’s steps slow, his body addled with the need to rest, his coordination worsened. It’s in Graham’s shoulders, hunched over slightly.

They’ll need to rest soon, she knows. But at what cost? How long will they really be able to nap for, 75 minutes, maximum? She needs the extra few for good measure.

The movements of the castle had been stubborn, blocking access to the chamber she needed in order to get to the top.

It’s vital she sees the stars. Absolutely vital. Because if someone had gone to all the trouble of making a replica of the confession dial, then they’d also replicate where the stars had been last. Where the stars had been positioned when she’d escaped.

When she was in the dial, she often thought about _the starting point._ That’s what she called the time when she’d first arrived in the dial. So all calculations of time after _the starting point_ were based on the shift from _the starting point_ to each time he’d looked at the stars in the dial.

But if the stars weren’t positioned 4.5 billion years after _the starting point,_ that meant that she was in the confession dial.

Because the times would have changed, and though it would be a minor shift, it would be obvious to her. And it would be the only changed factor in the castle (that she’d found so far).

She hopes, she really, really hopes, that the stars have changed.

“When are we stopping, Doc?” Graham says groggily.

_You can never stop, but you can rest._

The tower is still sealed off.

“We’ll have to skip the tower for now, the castle’s being stubborn. Five minutes to the closest room, yeah? You can all rest for an hour or so.”

The four make their way to the room in an uncomfortable silence.

-x-

They’re all asleep now, except for the Doctor. She watches over them, like a guardian angel. A guardian angel in a cage.

She wonders if this is hell. The Time Lords don’t have a religion, but most other cultures do, and most of them include some type of hell.

This would be hers, definitely.

If the Doctor doesn’t escape, the companions will die, whether it be from sleep deprivation or _it_. She’ll die too eventually, but her death will come long, long after.

If it turns out that this really is the confession dial, then the Doctor is at a loss. What does it want her to confess this time? The hybrid is gone because Clara is gone.

What other secrets does she keep? Her name?

Her name.

Is that what _it_ wants?

God, she hopes not.

Click

Click

Click

Click

She needs to wake them up.

 _It_ ’ll be here soon, and by then they’ll need to be long gone.

She shakes Yaz awake, watching the girl’s eyes droop open. There’s something unsettling about them, a fear that the doctor doesn’t like.

_Fear keeps you on your toes._

“Come on Yaz, you have to wake up.”

Yaz slowly sits up, still sleep addled. Her body desperately needs more rest, but _it_ is coming.

She can see it on the screen, slow and creeping. The can see the flies buzzing in front of it. It was a constant, for so many years. 4.5 billion years. A constant, relentless, pursuing nightmare with claws.

She hates it. How she feels almost at home here. A familiarity that can match the TARDIS, beat it even. She did spend billions of years here; it shouldn’t have surprised her-

No, not here. It can’t be here. It’s a replica, it has to be.

Could she handle it if it wasn’t?

_Is that even a question?_

“Can’t I lose, just once.” She murmurs under her breath; no one hears her.

_You have a duty of care._

The voice sounds too much like Clara for her liking.

Yaz helps wake up the other two, and the Doctor’s resolve breaks for just a fraction of a second when she sees their eyes, desperate and begging for sleep, already wearing down.

She strengthens her resolve, mentally berating herself for letting it fall, even for a second. The companions still don’t know what happens here, in this place; they don’t have any idea at all.

It will take them a while to get to the other side of the castle, she knows. But there’s somewhere specific she needs to see. If the tower is being stubborn, she may as well go to the garden. There’s something important there.

“Let’s get a shift on, yeah?” She smiles, urging them on. The grogginess of sleep still settles on them, but it lessens as they jog to the yard.

“Where are we going now, Doctor?” Yaz asks.

“We’re going to the garden. Well, I say garden. Not really much to show if it is a garden.”

“Why the garden?” Ryan cuts in.

“There’s something I need to dig up.”

-x-

As soon as she enters the garden-if it can even be called that-she freezes. The vines are just as dead as they were last time, and the shovel is positioned perfectly against the wall.

_Do I dig?_

_Of course you dig._

That’s been happening a lot lately. Clara. Maybe it’s the place, this castle.

“Okay then fam!” She regains her composure, smile tight, forced into a mock playful grin. “Ready?”

“For what?” Yaz asks.

“To dig.”

She grabs the shovel, making her way across the garden to the middle of the area, where a bed of soil lies.

God, it’s just like she remembers it. She’s dug it up billions of times, and the sound of the soil giving way to the shovel sends shivers down her spine.

-x-

It takes a long time, digging it up. Ryan and Yaz pitch in for bits, but she does most of the heavy lifting. Graham can’t, his joints are weak from age. She hates to say it, but Graham is most likely to die first if she can’t get them out of here. His body is old for a human’s, not terribly old, not as old as her last body even, but still old. A body that wears down faster.

She hears the familiar clang of stone, and bends down to swipe away the soil.

Her heart drops and her breath catches.

It’s the same.

“I AM IN 12”

She remembers writing it in her first time, before the stars shifted and the years passed. Before she’d laid out the clues and set up the loop.

Things were much harder then, and she’s glad that those memories are the hardest to unlock.

Sometimes she wishes she’d forget them all, but she can’t afford that, not now.

But then something catches her eye. She swipes at the soil, and her eyes widen.

“WELCOME HOME”

_No, no, no. Please. It’s a trick, has to be. Has to be a trick._

Those words are chilling, because despite the dread she feels, this place has the familiarity you’d associate with a home. The castle is more familiar than the TARDIS, and if that thought doesn’t inspire dread…

Focus. She has to focus.

It’s Gallifreyan writing, clear as day. And it isn’t hers. She’s never done that.

She hopes.

What if she _has_ done that? What if she’s in another loop? How long have they been here?

_No, stop thinking like that. So far you’ve seen no evidence of an energy loop._

Granted, it’s only been a few hours, less than a day really. But so far, nothing.

_That’s right. Focus on that._

And then she hears the buzzing. Coming from right below her.

-x-

She pushes open the doors to the TARDIS, the familiar golden glow of the consoles sets the setting comfortable.

“Ah! My storm room, good to be back! Well, this is no good. Look at that.” She pulls the monitor towards her, showing The Veil’s hands coming towards her face.

“Hmm. This seems all too familiar. No time to think about that though, we have bigger fish to fry.”

She ducks under the console and fiddles with a wire, making the console spark.

“Ah! Idea!”

Coming back up, she spins the monitor forward, and closes her eyes.

“Okay teacher, ask me questions.”

When she opens them, there’s a whiteboard to the side of her.

_Does it want a confession?_

“Everything else has been exactly the same, don’t see why this wouldn’t be. But if this was the real deal-hypothetically, because it can’t be-then it would have to be a Time Lord engineering this, yeah? And I don’t know what information they’d want from me.”

_A truth you haven’t told anyone else_

“Yes, yes. This regeneration, luckily, doesn’t talk much-well, I do, but not about myself. Well, not about important things about myself.”

She thought for a moment, before sitting down and resting her back on a glowing pillar, head in her hands.

“This place feels like home.”

_Why?_

“I was here so long-god, I hate it, but people can hate their homes, can’t they? I know every corner, twist and turn, and I know The Veil.”

_Then say it._

“I really don’t want to…and I don’t know why.”

_You don’t want to because saying it will make it more real._

“Yeah...you were always smart like that…Clara.”

-x-

“This place feels like home!” She shouts. “Is that what you want to hear!”

It slows…but it still comes near her.

“What, you want more?” She asks incredulously. “I was here for so long. 4.5 billion years! It’s more familiar than the TARDIS, every room and corridor; and god, I loathe it.”

The Veil freezes, the flies stop buzzing, and she flicks one away. The walls start to move, and instinctively she knows that the tower is open right now.

She climbs out of the hole, and watches her companions looking at her with wide eyes.

“Doctor?” Yaz asks tentatively, as if she was stuck between being concerned or horrified. “What did you mean when you said 4.5 billion years?

The Doctor freezes, then calms and smiles, trying to reassure her friend. “Ah, that’s not important. Come on, we have to get to the tower while we can.”

Yaz wants to follow up, the Doctor knows, but she drops it for now. The Doctor has a hunch she'll bring it up again eventually, when they're safe.

If they're ever safe.

“How do you know it’s ready?”

“I told you I knew this play well, yeah? Come on, let’s get a shift on.”


	3. The Rotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor finally learns whether they're in a replica or if it's truly the confession dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: panic attack

In retrospect, the Doctor shouldn’t have assumed they would drop it. They’re humans. Their entire existence is being nosy.

That’s how she likes it, of course. Humans never get tiring.

Humans get tired, though. And hungry. And scared.

But mostly, they’re nosy.

Like the look that Yaz has been giving her for the past ten minutes, questioning and worried. She doesn’t like that look on Yaz.

God, if being alone in the dial was horrific, she doesn’t know how it’s going to be with a duty of care.

So far, it’s not looking great.

When she was in the confession dial the first time-not that this was a second, because she’s in a replica, there’s no other explanation-she got lonely often.

She’s always worked best with an audience.

But taking care of three other people, innocent people…

That’s going to be difficult.

Not to mention she still had no clue who had trapped them here, and how. They were in the TARDIS-nothing is meant to be able to get through the TARDIS-when all of a sudden they were knocked out. By what, she still can’t remember.

Upon waking, they’d all found themselves sitting outside the energy loop chamber.

 _Not in it._ _That’s another sign pointing to this not being an energy loop._

She’d known where they were immediately, of course, and started them the room with Clara’s portrait immediately, seeking safe haven from The Veil, if only to catch their breaths.

She’s still at a loss as to who put them here as well. Only a select few people know what went on in those 4.5 billion years she’d been trapped in the dial.

But those thoughts aren’t important for now.

She looks over to her companions, watching them tread heavily, deprived of rest.

Realistically, even if they could survive a while without sleep, the lack of energy would make them sitting ducks for the Veil.

She won’t let that happen.

She needs to let them rest, but there’s still so much to do. She needs to get back to room 12, there’s no other option.

If she’s being honest, if the Azbantium barrier is reset to its original point, then she has no idea what to do. Usually the plan would come to her in time, and when she was in the dial it did, but it took 4.5 billion years to get out of the last one.

Who knows if a replica is even escapable?

 _Nothing is truly unescapable._ Clara.

“Hopefully you’re right.” She murmurs, and Yaz gives her a questioning look which she smiles in response to.

-x-

It doesn’t take long to get to the tower. A low fog has settled over the familiar waters, and the subtle glow from the lantern Yaz is holding dimly lights the cold stone of the parapet.

A skull-a familiar one-rests on the crenel of the battlement, and a sense of ice cold nostalgia washes over the Doctor.

The stars are out. This will determine everything, namely their chances of survival.

If this is the confession dial, then the chances are slim.

_She doesn’t want to look up._

Can’t she look away? Turn a blind eye to it all? Just once-

_How are you going to-_

_Clara, I can’t always-_

_Win?-_

Not an option.

“Doctor?” Yaz asks from behind her, and the Doctor gladly takes the distraction. “Why do we need to see the stars?”

The Doctor looks down. “If I see the stars, I’ll know if it’s a replica or not.”

“And we want it to be a replica?” Ryan questions.

“Oh, yes. Definitely.” _If it’s not, I don’t know if I can do it again._

“Well then, why aren’t you looking up?” Graham says. “I’m tired, Doc.” He’s grumpy from lack of sleep, that’s obvious to her.

“Well, it would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” She says lightly, not giving them time to answer. “Okay then, here I go. 3…2…-”

_God, I don’t want to do this please no don’t make me I can’t what if I’m there again what if it’s real-_

“-1.”

She looks up.

And her heart drops in her chest.

-x-

When she was little, her mother used to tell her bedtime stories while coaxing her to sleep. Tales of bravery and wit, of heroism and sacrifice.

In her favorites, the protagonists died heroically. She’d always wanted to go out that way, though she’d never voiced those thoughts.

At the time, she’d believed that’s how everyone died. Saving someone, or doing something brave.

Timelords didn’t talk about death; it was beneath them. Life was for living, and death was for joining the cloisters. It was as simplistic as that.

For a long time, the Doctor didn’t understand why dying was so taboo. It was so far away for all them; no one she knew well had died yet.

And then one did. An elder who’d she’d helped tend to many times before.

They’d gotten to know each other well, and both gained a lot from the simple understanding between them. The elder would regale her in stories while she taught him how she saw the world; how the eyes of a child saw the world.

The elder passed away of old age, and the Doctor was left confused as to how that had happened. He hadn’t gone out saving people, or in a heroic sacrifice.

And so, she was confused.

She’d gone to ask her mother, who had answered:

“When someone gets old enough, they die. But it is peaceful, and you shouldn’t worry, Theta.”

“But why?” She had asked. “Why does age do that?”

“Well,” her mother had said, “our cells are born that way, nothing can live forever. Eventually, our cells just die.”

It was at that moment that the Doctor had understood why the Timelords didn’t talk about death.

_All living things are born rotting._

And they didn’t want to show the rot.

If the Doctor knows anything, it’s that she’s never felt the rotting more in her life.

-x-

Besides the feeling of rot, she feels numb. The world feels miles beneath her feet and she can no longer smell the salt in the air. She doesn’t feel the stillness of the air and she doesn’t hear the quiet lapping of gentle waves.

She doesn’t notice the companions, boring their eyes into her neck.

She is still. She is silent. Is she even there?

She doesn’t think so.

_Don’t be silly. Of course you’re there._

Rotting…she’s rotting

_Come on Doctor, wake up, you have a duty of care_

Why? Why is she back here? She can’t be oh god oh no-

_You have people who need you. You are so, so strong, but you need to wake up_

Wake? She can’t, if she wake’s she’ll be there and she can’t she can’t be there she escaped not again-

_You can._

I can’t I can’t I can’t-

_What’s stopping you?_

I’m rotting can’t you see I’m rotting oh god I’m rotting-

_No Doctor, you aren’t rotting. Wake up. You aren’t rotting. You’ll escape, you always do. You always-_

Clara, I can’t always-

_WIN._

-x-

“Doctor? Doctor! Are you here with me? Doctor!” Yaz is shaking her, kneeling down to meet her on the ground.

When did she get on the ground? And why does her chest hurt? Did something go wrong in her respiratory bypass?

“Yaz…” She says weakly, coughing.

“Doc, what was that?” Graham asks with wide eyes. He’s standing to her left, Ryan by his side.

“Just respiratory bypass malfunctioning. That rarely happens, but it got me at a bad time. My species has this issue, ‘m fine now though!” She lies, but it doesn’t seem obvious to her companions. Relief fills their faces.

“Geez, you almost scared me to death, Doc.” Graham raises an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like I can control it!” She rolls her eyes jokingly, trying to distract them; make them happy, even.

“So, is it a replica or not?” Ryan asks. The laughter dies out, and the Doctor looks down, gritting her teeth.

“No. It’s the real deal. But I can get us out of here, I just need time. I’ll win, I always do.” Her voice is determined, but the rot fills her lungs and her skin burns.

“We know you will, Doc.” Graham pats her shoulder, and she flinches involuntarily, drawing a worried look from him.

She smiles, tilting her head to cover up the dread that had filled her momentarily.

“Come on then. I have a good idea of where to go next.” She doesn’t look to see their faces as she gets up and starts to lead them down the steps and back into the castle, but she can hear their footfall as they follow behind her.


End file.
